


Seeing Orange

by chronicopheliac



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angry Will, Apologetic Hannibal, Arguments, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Rimming, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has a bad day. Hannibal tries to make it up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Orange

**Author's Note:**

> Re: the mildly dubious consent tag - the sex in this fic is completely consensual, but it can be seen as coercive since Will is initially resistant to Hannibal's actions. Just wanted to clarify. <3
> 
> I was having a bad day when I wrote this, so I guess I kinda channeled my frustration into it. XD Enjoy!

It was a shitty day. A really shitty day.

Early in the morning, Will had gone out for a run with Encephalitis, and she cut her paw on some broken glass. Disappointing that he didn't see the asshole who had left it there.

The blood had ruined a good pair of running shoes.

Back home, a pipe in their bathroom sprung a leak. Of course they didn't have the parts to fix it, so Will had to go out and buy them.

Four hardware stores and an entire afternoon later, he was under the sink, cursing up a storm.

“Will?”

“Fffuck!” Will dropped his wrench and it landed on his face. Hannibal's socked feet were visible just at the edge of Will's field of vision. He refused to listen to whatever Hannibal wanted to tell him. “What?”

“You bought clementines at the market. I asked for mandarins.”

“So? Aren’t they basically the same thing?”

“If they were, I would have asked for ‘some mandarins or clementines or whatever’ instead.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Will slid out from the sink, standing straight up to face Hannibal.

“Will, your face…” Hannibal reached out to check the bruise forming on Will’s cheekbone.

Waving him off, Will continued, “They were out of fucking mandarins. I got you something I thought was close. They’re just fucking oranges!”

“They’re not just--”

“Oh right! You care so much about your stupid fruit. Did you even notice ‘Cephy was hurt today?”

Hannibal’s lip twitched. “I thought perhaps she was just tired from her run this morning.”

“She has a goddamn bandage on her paw, Hannibal. She’s not walking around because it hurts. Do you ever give a fuck about anything outside of yourself and the things you want?”

“Of course I do, Will. I just needed the mandarins for--”

“You know what? Fuck the oranges. Fuck your dinner. Fuck this sink. I’m getting take out. Sink’s not getting done tonight, I’ll be back later.” He bumped Hannibal’s shoulder on the way out of the bathroom.

Sweaty and frustrated from labouring under the sink, Will angrily shoved his boots on, slamming the front door on his way out.

*

A few hours and some shitty fried chicken later, Will returned no less frustrated than before. A light drew him to the kitchen. On the table, Hannibal had arranged the clementines with an assortment of cheeses and crackers. A note sat on the glass cover over the dish.

_Will,_

_I made do with the clementines. Please feel free to have some if you like. I will be in the study if you need me._

_\--H._

The asshole didn’t even apologize. _Made do with the clementines._  Will snorted and tossed the note into the trash. He pictured smashing the dish over Hannibal’s head and felt a little better.

He bypassed the study entirely and took a shower.

The shower helped. Soothed the tension from his shoulders and neck. After he dried off, he slipped on a pair of boxers and went to check on Encephalitis. He gave her an antibiotic injection and changed her bandages, giving her lots of scritches when he was done.

Feeling marginally more relaxed, and still ignoring Hannibal, he went to bed.

He was nearly asleep when a creak jarred him to alertness. Something tugged on the covers at the end of the bed. Something wet touched his toe. The arch of his foot. His ankle.

“‘Cephy, get,” he grumbled, tucking his knees up to his chest. Hands grasped his ankles and pulled down, straightening his legs. Not a dog, then.

The mattress dipped and creaked as Hannibal kneeled between Will’s feet. Tongue and lips dragged over the back of Will’s calves, up his thighs. Hannibal released his ankles and traveled up with his hands as well, blunt nails raking over his skin.

Will jerked, sweeping his leg to the side to urge Hannibal off the bed. Anticipating the move, Hannibal anchored himself with his hands on the back of Will’s thighs, shifting to straddle him at the knees.

Bare skin rubbed along Will’s legs. Hannibal’s thighs. He wasn’t wearing pants, the presumptuous bastard. Frustration thrummed in Will’s veins even as arousal stirred within.

“What are you doing?” Will tried twisting away, but Hannibal held Will down by the shoulders.

Teeth bit into the fleshiest part of Will’s backside. Will groaned into his pillow, unable to keep his hips from pressing back into the sting.

“Hannibal.”

More bites, down between Will’s thighs, gentling over more delicate flesh. Hannibal licked and nuzzled, hands kneading Will’s shoulders.

Groaning louder, Will twisted again. He was still mad. Hannibal was a jerk, and he couldn’t nibble his way out of--

“Oh god,” Will breathed. Teasing licks pressed in. Will squeezed his legs together, bucking against the sheets.

Hannibal’s hands slid down to spread flesh. He explored deeper, humming as he savoured. Pleasant little vibrations made Will gasp.

Grinding his hips, Will was desperate. “Ha… Hann-- fuck!” Hannibal reached beneath Will’s hips, moving with smooth strokes. “I’m still-- I’m still, god, pissed off!”

“Please,” Hannibal said, forehead resting between Will’s shoulder blades. Stroking faster as slick fingers rubbed and teased.

“Wha… what?” Angling his hips, Will pushed back onto Hannibal’s fingers, demanding. If this was Hannibal’s way of apologizing, he could at least stop being such a goddamn tease.

“Please don’t be angry, Will.” Hannibal rolled to the side, taking Will with him so he could writhe freely, chasing two sensations.

Much better.

Pressure was building low in Will’s belly. He canted back and forth, setting his own rhythm against Hannibal’s body. He couldn’t recall why he was so mad in the first place. It probably wasn’t important.

Hannibal’s hands twisted just right, and Will cried out with his release. Clenching around the agonizing pleasure of Hannibal’s fingers.

They were still for several moments while they struggled to regain some composure. On a whim, Will clenched a few more times. Just to enjoy the sensation of being filled, even just this much. Hannibal nudged his nose behind Will’s ear, kissing any skin along his neck he could reach. Rocking with tiny movements of his hips, trying to get some relief without troubling Will.

Smiling, Will angled forward to slip Hannibal free. “C’mere.” He grabbed Hannibal’s arm and wrapped it around his waist. Parting his thighs just enough to guide Hannibal to slide against him. Squeezing together, he urged Hannibal to move with a gentle nudge back.

With a shuddering sigh, Hannibal moved. Slow and steady, hoping to make it last forever.

“You seduced me into forgiveness,” Will said between sighs, “that’s new. Quite a step up, actually.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

The pace was lazy. Indulgent. Languid kisses complemented each thrust. Will was pretty sure his entire neck was going to be purple in the morning.

“That doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want and then do… this.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Well what about you? You still mad about your stupid oranges?”

A stuttered gasp tickled Will’s ear as Hannibal’s movements faltered. Heat erupted between Will’s thighs, trickling down to the sheets. Hannibal pulled at Will to turn him around, to face him. Leaning in for a warm kiss.

“Fuck the oranges.”

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm also on Tumblr!](http://chronicopheliac.tumblr.com)


End file.
